


Work the Kinks Out

by DevilOfWire



Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [15]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Snufkin, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Kinktober 2020, Knotting, Large Cock, M/M, Massage, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Size Difference, Smut, Top Moomintroll, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilOfWire/pseuds/DevilOfWire
Summary: 15. Prostitution | Armpit| MassageOn a particularly searing summer afternoon, Moomin and Snufkin find a rock somewhere out back and somehow make a bet on who would be better at giving out massages.Quickly realizing his inevitable defeat given Moomin’s big, fluffy hands which are no match for his tiny human ones, Snufkin decides, fuck it.Quite literally.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Series: DevilOfWire's Kinktober 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950421
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Work the Kinks Out

**Author's Note:**

> **IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 DO _NOT_ READ.**
> 
> A soft continuation of last year’s Kinktober, but hopefully even cuter this time ;)

Snufkin’s nimble fingers run through silky white fur, pressing down with tender pressure into the equally snow-coloured flesh below.

He moves his hands with memory and skill over the muscles hidden beneath his coat, digging into them with enough pressure to get to the muscle beneath the outermost layers of fat and fluff, but not nearly hard enough to be uncomfortable or painful.

Of course not. Because Snufkin was going to win this bet.

It wasn’t typical for him to get competitive about things. Usually he was much more laid back than that, able to wave off such silly things as aggressiveness, and go fishing, or something like that.

But this wasn’t one of those times.

Perhaps it was the weather—the sun, even now, beating down on them from above, searing more into Snufkin’s exposed, burnable pale skin than Moomin’s reflective white coat. The silly oaf didn’t even know how lucky he was.

Snufkin always found it a little curious, how such large, thick-furred creatures lived in a relatively tepid climate such as this. Usually the weather was fair and the temperature perfectly reasonable for humans or half-humans such as Snufkin, with his distinct lack of coat or insulating body fat.

But then the seasons would shift, going from the freezing temperatures that suit a moomintroll’s biology much better, to absolutely sweltering and humid like this. And he, again without all that fur and fluff, wondered how in the world creatures like these could even survive, without sweat or needing to stay in an ice bath or under a fan or something more logical like that.

But somehow, despite all logic, the moomintroll beneath his hands not only shows no signs of even being affected by the heat other than a slight swish of his tail at the occasional honeybee-

But he’s not even really seeming to be stimulated by Snufkin’s attentive massage, either.

Snufkin sighs, leaning back as his hands slide down to Moomin’s lower back in defeat. Perhaps it was all that thick skin, made it so his touches never really seemed to register as sensitively as it should have.

“Oh, why’d you stop?” came a voice muffled by his own plush arm from above. “Is there a problem, Snufkin?”

“It just doesn’t seem to be doing anything, right?” he huffs, one hand going up to adjust his hat to try in vain to block the sun from cooking his face.

“I quite liked it, actually!”

“Really?” Snufkin raises a brow, putting his two hands back down. “Because it really doesn’t seem like it, Moomin. You’re acting just the same as you were five minutes ago, before I was doing anything.”

“Ah, sorry,” Moomin laughs a little. “Am I supposed to act different?”

Snufkin shrugs, although he knows the other can’t see it. “Well, some sign would be reassuring, at least. Slower breathing, or a turn of your head, or, I don’t know, anything. Else how am I supposed to know you’re not just lying to be nice?”

“I don’t know! Here, why don’t you try again, but this time, press harder or something. Like a deep muscle massage! I’ve read something like that in a book, once, I think.”

Snufkin purses his lips, but spreads his fingers between silky fur anyway. If nothing else, he enjoys the refreshing cool trapped beneath Moomin’s fur, like a breeze over his fingers. The surface of his fur is rightfully hot, but somehow it keeps the air close to his skin a temperature more like spring or fall’s, or just a day not hit by a damned ungodly heat wave.

He tries doing as Moomin suggested, digging his hands in deeper, but finding it’s hard to do so without getting the rest of his body properly aligned. So he sits up on the one rock they could find that wasn’t hot enough to legitimately cook on, and pushes down, through his back, his shoulders, arms, wrists, hands, deep into the still-tense muscles of his friend.

And, surprisingly, it actually does something! Moomin lets out a breathy sound, surely a good thing, as it feels like his body melts beneath Snufkin’s touch.

He continues his actions, met with the reward of hearing the other sigh and move each time, over the rest of Moomin’s back.

Only, now, he’s getting tired, himself, panting and sweating with the exertion made monumental on a day as hot as this.

He reaches one hand up to wipe the sweat from his forehead—damn Moomin and his not having to worry about the unpleasantness of such a biological feat—and takes a break.

He knows that Moomin definitely did seem to be enjoying it, but knows from past... experiences, that Moomin will no doubt do much better with his large, soft hands on his more sensitive skin. And no matter how he would try to play it down or lie about what he was feeling, he wouldn’t be able to hide just how good those damned hands felt after entire minutes directly under them.

So he finally catches his breath enough to close his mouth, a small smile coming to them, as he concocts a plan.

“What are you doing?” Moomin says immediately, eyes that had been closed in bliss blinking open to the emerald grass before him as he reacts to the small fingers sliding underneath him. This was  _ definitely _ not what they agreed on for this bet.

“Just giving you a massage,” Snufkin says, his face entirely nonchalant as Moomin looks back.

Moomin furrows his brow, but with a flick of his tail against Snufkin’s thigh straddled over him, lays back down. This better not be what he was thinking it was, or else all bets were off. Literally.

Snufkin stalls for a little bit, pretending to try his fingers on the bones of Moomin’s hips, or to be massaging his outer thighs or something as stupid as that, but eventually he just goes for it.

“Snufkin!” Moomin calls out, loud into the forest, but probably not loud enough to reach any sentient ears.

Because now, not only had Snufkin weasled his fingers beneath Moomin’s warm underbelly, he’d dived down straight for the intersect of his legs, with just a few fingers searching for the small sheath usually utterly unnoticeable beneath all that fur.

And sure enough, despite Moomin’s thrashing trying to throw him off, Snufkin finds it. And then he makes a fist, pumping one hand up and down, the other delicately working his fingers around the wet tip of something beginning to show soon enough, trying his best to ignore the obsceneness of what he was doing.

“H-hey!” Moomin shouts, twisting almost playfully under Snufkin’s relatively light weight, knowing very well that he could easily throw him off if he really wanted to, which he didn’t. “This is definitely cheating!” he says, trying for intimidating, but a chuckle and a pleased grunt ruin that facade.

“We set up no rules,” Snufkin replies, showing no signs of shame, only the lifting sound of a grin, perhaps, as he rides Moomin like a bucking bronco, going with every twist and attempt to get him off, fingers pumping and dragging to expose more of that hot, slick flesh.

In fact, Moomin’s movements only suit to make Snufkin just as hard as him, grinding against his crotch until there’s a clear tent in his pants, one that Moomin can feel poking against his back, even with all that fur in the way.

Moomin lets Snufkin work his cock until he’s fully exposed and hard, panting and groaning with pleasure under those tiny but talented fingers not leaving a single strip of his length neglected. He must admit, this was definitely better than either version of the massage before, but it is also definitely still cheating!

So after he gets over just how good it feels, Moomin sucks it up, and slips off to one side of the rock.

Snufkin, of course, crashes right down with him, a bit confused to suddenly be on the forest floor, but finding it only lasts for a second.

Because then he’s lying in warmth, realizing he’s now right where Moomin was but a second ago, entirely on his stomach, wide-eyed.

He breathes a sigh of relief, as he has some protection from his clothes, but then the moment he has that thought, they’re being pulled up over his head and tossed to the side, forgotten.

“W-wait, Moomin-” Snufkin tries, but then his pants, underwear, socks, and shoes, are slid off in one smooth motion.

Leaving him entirely naked and exposed beneath the elements, including that burning sun.

But Moomin’s right there to provide some shade, sitting on Snufkin’s upper thighs just as he had been a minute before.

But considering Snufkin has no fur to hide the nudity of his form, it’s already a lot more sexual, as Moomin begins his own massage.

He starts delicate as Snufkin was initially, but it quickly ramps up in strength and speed, both of them impatient as they can feel Moomin’s hard cock throbbing against Snufkin’s round ass, with every movement coating his rosy skin in white, sticky pre-cum.

Snufkin can’t help but moan under those large, doughy fingers, just as he knew he would. Of course, maybe he didn’t expect it to be quite so dripping in sex the first time, but all the same, it feels wonderful, sexual or not.

Just those large, thick fingers, lighting up his nerves and into his touch-starved flesh.

Snufkin hates to even think it, wanting to be an independent, world-savvy man who relies on only himself and needs no one else, but he always appreciated the little touches Moomin would give him. Even when they were first getting to know each other, and all their gestures were purely friendly and platonical, they were like a shock to his system every time, overloading him with wants and needs he hadn’t realized he’d been neglecting all his life.

No one else usually put up with his odd quirks and sayings, especially his unfortunate tendency to literally leave everyone in the dust when he began to get uncomfortable—still working on that—but Moomin did, for whatever reason. And he’d always been more hands-on than most, as well.

His handiness, really, perhaps it was the reason that they started this... thing.

This lovely, wonderful, way-beyond-physical, thing with him, that Snufkin never realized was missing from his life until he got it. Just like those touchy hands, or an ear to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, fingers to hold his.

He didn’t think he would almost make himself cry just from over-thinking the poorly-disguised excuse for sex this massage was at this point, but here he is.

“Are you okay, Snufkin?” a worried voice at what sounded like sniffling amidst his moans stirs him from his thoughts, those lovely fingers that had been working slowly down to his ass stopping at his hips.

“Y-yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “just keep going, Moomin. I really, really like it, is all,” he laughs.

Moomin tilts his head, unable to see Snufkin’s face given the position on top of him.

Then he shrugs, murmuring, “Alright, Snufkin, if you say so,” and wets a couple fingers in his maw, and presses it between Snufkin’s legs.

Snufkin’s reaction is immediate, as he arches at the touch, moving away from it and then into it, letting out a panting breath.

One of those huge, slickened fingers drags through the cum down Snufkin’s back, left by his own cock, and then begins to insert itself into his small, pink hole.

With plenty of practice on how to breathe and keep his body calm, even Moomin’s large finger can slip easily inside of him, breaching him as he lets out a moan, crooking at just the right angle and depth to stroke something special inside of him and brighten his world with intense pleasure.

Every press and glide of his fingers against  _ that _ spot forces a spurt of pre-cum from Snufkin’s cock trapped between the rock and his abdomen, and he realizes it’s kind of like a massage, only inside of him, and very, very naughty.

Moomin inserts another after a few strokes, stretching Snufkin on his fingers with ease that can only be from doing this so many times before.

So many seasons, years, of doing something that nobody else even knew about, all alone together in the depths of the forest.

They still loved doing plenty of activities, both indoors and out, of course. Fishing, swimming, reading, the rare outings to busier necks of the woods.

But this had quickly grown to be something they liked to do, at least once a week, usually more.

It was just such a weird ting, an oddly captivating activity that neither of them fully understood, but enjoyed all the same. And it was very much because they could do it together, not just being brought far more pleasure than their own hands could ever do to themselves, but because they could bring the other the most physical pleasure a being could hope to.

that’s exactly how Moomin feels, as he twists and thrusts his fingers in and out of Snufkin’s now gaping hole, listening to his moans as he furrows his own brow in concentration, his other hand reaching down to palm at his own red cock.

“D-do it,” Snufkin cries beneath him, before being caught in a moan as he hits that special spot that makes him leak cum that smears against his belly on the rock.

“Are you sure-”

“Yes,” Snufkin answers readily, fingernails clawing against the surface of the rock he was forced to lie flat on, Moomin’s immense, but oddly comforting, weight keeping his body firmly pinned down. “Ple-please, Moomin, f-fuck me with your cock,” he gasps, already so close to cumming on his thick fingers alone.

Moomin is always surprised at just how dirty his friend can speak, wonders where he learned such words and why. But then he remembers that there’s a huge, vast world outside of the valley, that eh has, and probably never will, see. Strange people and their strange sayings, he’d heard or read it from somewhere. And then Moomin learned the terms from him in turn, of course.

But despite the filthy curses that sound so strange from his pale pink lips, Moomin does as asked of him.

And then Snufkin’s being penetrated with a large, thick cock from behind, only able to squeeze against the rock with nowhere to go, biting into his own arm to muffle the loud scream that would otherwise come.

But after the initial pain and discomfort, Moomin’s cock head is safely buried inside of him. And after that, it’s just the pure satisfaction of being filled and made one together; sheathing his cock inside a tight heat and connecting both of them through it, making them as close as two creatures could be.

Moomin’s breath is hot on his neck, Snufkin having broken into a cold sweat to battle the heat a while ago, leaving him surprisingly unaffected by the warmth, for once.

So he’s able to fully enjoy the feeling of being fucked against a hard surface by his (mostly) innocent best friend, his body being partially crushed by soft fur that tickles his skin, squeezing the air from his lungs in a familiar, wonderful way. His own cock trapped beneath a rock and his body gets some friction, too, as his body shifts slightly with every thrust, making him nearly crazy with lust.

Moomin pulls his cock from him only to dig it deep back in, making both of them moan in pleasure, all their senses seeming to brighten with the sensation. They keep going like that, Moomin thrusting into him steadily, angling his hips to fuck his cock in until he finds an angle that makes Snufkin gasp his name in overwhelming pleasure.

As it almost always does, the sex doesn’t last very long. But it’s still a good few minutes of pure, physical pleasure, panting and groaning and the wet slapping noises of sex in their tiny bubble of the forest. Something deeper, too, indescribable, both of them feeling it without words, as Moomin’s hands curve around Snufkin’s waist to better grip him, Snufkin turning his neck to let out breathy moans against the smooth grey of the rock.

Snufkin soon feels something hitting against his hole, swelling to the point that it can no longer enter him. He simply claws more against the rock, trying to grind his hips back against it to get it inside of him and make him cum on it.

A few more thrusts and Moomin finally feels himself at his end, breathing hard and heavy as he should on this summer day, even if it was only achieved by fucking his friend for nearly ten minutes.

He shoves his hips forward harder than he ever has, and with the sheer force of his thrust, aided by his own slick pre-cum spilling between Snufkin’s thighs, his knot is shoved inside his warm hole, instantly spurting entire rounds of pure, white semen inside of him.

The feeling of being knotted is almost always what gets Snufkin to ultimately cum, and this time is no exception, as he finally orgasms as his body feels like it’s ripped open, made to accept Moomin’s enormous knot, all of his hot seed shooting inside of his body.

Snufkin’s neglected prick can only spend his load against the rock and his stomach, but he’s happy anyways.

More than happy, even as Moomin’s heavy body collapses on top of him, knot and cock still spurting ropes of cum inside him that will no doubt be a pain to clean out later.

They catch their breaths, thinking of what just happened, repeating the memories as remnants of pleasure flash back to them.

But, eventually, Snufkin is lucid enough to turn his head, opening his eyes at the same time Moomin does.

He leans up to give Moomin a kiss on the cheek, which surprises the hippo-like creature enough to open his mouth, wide-eyed.

Snufkin giggles a little, letting out another heavy breath, or maybe a contented sigh. Either way, he speaks, “Alright, Moomin. We both cheated, so I say we’re even.”

“Oh, I forgot all about that,” Moomin admits, laughing.

“It’s alright,” Snufkin chuckles. “I’ll admit, you definitely won that one. But next time, I’ll make sure I win.”

“Ooh, ‘next time’? I like the sound of that,” the moomintroll still locked inside him smiles.

Snufkin nods, laying his head back down on the rock as he tilts his head. Now that his body has stopped sweating as much from the exertion of sex, the suffocating heat once again pervades him, body, soul, and mind, entirely.

“But first,” Snufkin grunts, leaning up with surprising strength and nearly making Moomin fall off, if not for the knot keeping them firmly tied together, “we should find a cool river to bathe in, before I pass out from heat exhaustion.”

Moomin nods from behind him, but then awkwardly laughs. “Right, well... how are we going to deal with this?”

A tug of the knot makes Snufkin gasp, before he brings himself back to his senses.

“I don’t know,” he turns with a silly grin, wrapping his arms around his big fluff ball of a friend, “but we’ll figure it out,” he winks.

**Author's Note:**

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> Thanks for reading, as always! :) This was fun to write, as always with these two cute little characters, lol!


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